


Starburst Academy

by karuvapatta



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crushes, Fights, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 11:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8977582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karuvapatta/pseuds/karuvapatta
Summary: Damen is the new student at the Academy. He and Laurent don't get along.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I gave [Diana](http://thorduna.tumblr.com/) a chance to stop me. She didn't.
> 
> Enjoy!

The most humiliating aspect of this entire thing was that Laurent still looked more or less immaculate as they were being marched up the stairs and down the corridor towards the Headmaster's office. Damen loathed him, from the smoothed down rich boy hairdo, through the bitchy expression, the starched shirt snug against his neck and wrists, all the way to the polished boots. His own appearance showed some wear and tear after the tumble across the floor, mostly due to Laurent's very particular ideas of sportsmanship.

His only consolation was the sweet, sweet memory of Laurent, flat on his stomach, beating the ground in submission after he concluded he'd have to dislocate his own shoulder to break Damen's hold.

"Have fun," said Govart, a nasty smirk on his face. They were now before the heavy, oaken door, which he pushed open without bothering to knock.

Dislike crept up Damen's spine. Laurent was spoiled and arrogant, true, but Govart was a bully, straight and simple, and a very special kind of unpleasant. How on earth had he been chosen Head Boy was beyond Damen's understanding.

The office was richly furnished and considerably more well-kept than other areas of the school. The Headmaster, seated behind his desk, looked up at them with a flash of irritation that quickly smoothed over into his usual benevolent smile. 

"I caught them fighting," Govart said without preamble.

"Is that so?" The Headmaster rose in his seat and walked over. He was a heavily built middle-aged man with dark hair, greying at the temples, and a penchant for expensive suits. His eyes passed over Damen. "You are the new student, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir," Damen said.

"And you've already taken a dislike to my nephew," the Headmaster shook his head sadly. "This is probably your new record, isn't it, Laurent?"

"I haven't been keeping track," Laurent said. His posture was stiff. "Uncle."

The Headmaster turned to Damen, voice weary. Damen couldn't help a pang of sympathy; it was difficult enough being Laurent's schoolmate, much less a family member. "His brother was never like this. Auguste had been by far the best Head Boy we have had. Very popular, always on the honour roll..."

Damen knew this well enough. So presumably did Laurent, whose stony expression gave nothing away.

"Is either of you hurt?" They both shook their heads. "Tell me then: who began the fight?"

"I did," Damen and Laurent said in unison.

"I threw the first punch," Damen said.

Laurent regarded him, totally unimpressed.

"I threw the first effective one," he said. "Besides, I provoked you."

"Of that I have no doubt," the Headmaster said. The frown on his face deepened, as he was confronted with blatant lack of remorse on Laurent's part. However, he took it in his stride, with an air of a man who had to put up with many years of his wayward nephew. His hand, outstretched, rested heavily on Laurent's shoulder. "It’s such a shame... I no longer know how to deal with your misbehaving. For you," he added almost apologetically in Damen's direction, "we will try an evening's detention. I believe the old music room could do with a thorough cleaning. Govart will show you the way."

"Sir," Damen said, because he could say nothing more.

"Go now, please. I'd like a word in private with my nephew."

***

Watching him scrub the floors proved boring. After a number of uninspired taunts, which Damen ignored, Govart finally buggered off to bother someone else.

Damen dusted. He scrubbed. He had ditched the uniform vest and tie and rolled back his sleeves. And cleaned.

It was possibly intended that the punishment would be demeaning, but he found himself enjoying it. True, he'd rather play football or some game with Nik and the others, but it was preferable to be alone than in Laurent's company.

Laurent who, long past curfew, strolled into the music room.

He was looking flawless again, every inch of his clothing ironed and spotless. Damen had to look up from where he knelt on the floor, and became uncomfortably aware of the soapy suds trickling down his forearm, and the dirty patches on his knees.

"Not done yet?" Laurent asked pleasantly. "Oh dear. It's almost midnight."

It had been four hours. Damen forced a smile.

"Not all of us can get away with a slap on the wrists."

Laurent's expression took on a sharp, brittle quality. It was impossible to say what was going on inside his head, and Damen had no desire to guess. He watched instead as Laurent picked up a full dustpan and then matter-of-factly emptied it on a clean patch of floor.

"You missed a spot," Laurent said.

The black dust swirled in the air and then settled on the wooden panels. Damen decided he had had enough.

Laurent put up a hell of a fight, but the simple truth was this: he was younger, and smaller, and built for speed and agility. Cool intellectualism was useless when all his decisions had to be split-second, and when he had to lever all of Damen's considerable bulk to apply his fancy tactics.

For his part, Damen was thoroughly pleased. He enjoyed the physical strain and the occasional jab in his ribcage, but most of all he enjoyed the soapy water soaking up Laurent's clothes, and the smudge of dirt on his face. Blonde hair no longer lay flat on his head, spiking instead in every direction; pale cheeks were red with exertion.

They grappled in silence, Laurent having run out of either breath or mean things to say. Every inhale and exhale rattled his chest, and Damen felt it firmly. He was on top; it was now more of a one-sided struggle than a fight, Laurent thrashing uselessly beneath him. Damen held onto his slim wrists and weighted down his hips, until Laurent's rage gave way to exhaustion.

They breathed, loudly.

Calm now, Laurent slowly became aware of their position. The tension in his muscles held, but blue eyes focused on Damen with a kind of cool detachment. He was waiting for something, apparently.

From his vantage point, Damen felt a surge of those annoying thoughts that would occasionally resurface in Laurent's presence: that, all in all, it was really rather unfair that a face like that had to be attached to such an unpleasant personality. But this was his luck.

They really were very close. He could smell minty toothpaste on Laurent's breath, and see each individual blond eyelash as his eyes fluttered close. 

"Go on," Laurent said. Quiet. Calm. "Do it. No-one will know."

Damen let go of his wrists, as if burned. He stood up, extending his hand without a conscious thought. And, shockingly, Laurent took it, letting himself by pulled up from the floor.

"What are you talking about?" Damen asked.

Laurent shrugged. "You wanted to kiss me," he said.

"If I wanted to kiss you," Damen said, heat in his cheeks, "it wouldn't happen like this."

Blue eyes narrowed at him.

"Really? Because believe me, I've met your type before. Sweet in private, but you'd call me names and brag as soon as you met with your jock friends."

"It's not my fault you've met some shit people," Damen said coldly. "If I wanted to kiss you, we'd be out on a date somewhere."

Laurent snorted, looking him up and down in disbelief. It had probably something to do with Damen's reputation, or maybe this school's medieval approach to dating.

"Yes. And then you'd carry my books to class."

"And hold your hand in the corridor," Damen said, matching his sarcastic tone. "Invite you to parties."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Laurent said.

"There's only one problem, sweetheart," Damen said, as pleasantly as he was able. "I really don't want to kiss you."

Now Laurent's cheeks flamed. He brushed his hair from his face, glare challenging. Nothing of his usual composure remained, but Damen wasn't sure if he should count it as a victory.

"Good," Laurent said. "Now hurry up. Some of us would like to sleep tonight."

Damen was just about to point out that he had been close to finishing before someone ruined his work - but there Laurent was, picking up a brush and a dustpan, dealing with the mess he had made in quick, efficient strokes.

Maybe it was time to stop trying to understand him.

**Author's Note:**

> ~and then they stop being stupid and fall in love~


End file.
